A Taste of Iron
by done.with.marblesxx
Summary: Remus and his lycanthropy: five times when being a werewolf was too much.
1. i

**i**

When you're five-years-old, the most blistering insult ever conceived is "baby". At an age where you're constantly trying to convince your parents you're old enough to do things by yourself– cross the street, fly on a broomstick, or put on a jacket– there's nothing less you want than to pummel whoever calls you that horrendous word.

Yet someone is saying the word again and again, screaming, "_My baby!_" Remus decides the voice sounds awfully like his mother's. But that can't be; there had been an agreement that she wouldn't call him baby anymore if he stopped playing with her makeup. She wasn't one to break a compromise.

"_What's happened to Remus? What's happened?_"

Remus bubbles up to consciousness. Whatever darkness that had been choking him has dissipated. His mind is jumping at a furious speed.

The first thing that comes back is the pain.

It is red, oozing, burning, ripping, shredding, licking. Acidic. It is a fire. Purple poison in his veins threatening to dissolve his cells and invade is mind. He wants–_needs_–comfort. He reaches out for the only thing he can think of.

"Bear!" he gasps, surprised by his frail and static voice. Nobody has registered his want. Someone's sobbing, a terrible grind of vocal chords.

"_Merlin, bitten at his age… My beautiful baby… You have to do something… Anything… My beautiful baby…_"

He remembers a tall moon playing with shadows in the forest. He remembers a wet dog–or maybe just the smell of one. He remembers matted, dirty fur and yellow fangs and eyes speckled with red.

The pain is a fire curling at his belly and his breath catches in his throat. Then it morphs to rivers of molten lava sinking down his legs. Then the venomous spider of gut-wrenching pain driving fangs into his wrist.

Remus screams and the darkness grabs him again.


	2. ii

**ii**

"But Remus, think of all the things you'll learn!"

It's funny, this painful irony, this reversal of roles. His mum is sitting on his bed, excited out of her mind about Hogwarts, _glorious Hogwarts_, while he's a lump of passivity wrapped up in his rocket-ship bedsheets. He feels extremely abnormal.

"You'll love Hogwarts!" She claps her hands. From all the certificates and faded ribbons in the attic, Remus had guessed she had been an excellent student. He wondered if all her memories were good ones.

"There's Charms and Transfiguration and the _ghosts_ and butterbeer although you won't be tasting that until third year and–"

"But I'll miss you." It catches her off-guard. She looks down at Remus as the happy vision sags around her shoulder. "You and Dad."

She looks at him for a while.

"Sweetheart," she says. Her voice is gentle, a blanket of warmth on a cold day. She kisses his forehead.

"We'll miss you too. So much." Soft and quiet. "But you'll have fun at Hogwarts. I promise."

Remus says nothing, but he has already imagined his first day at Hogwarts. By a slip of some professor's tongue, everyone will find out he's a werewolf and will scream and yell and try to kill him. Or a milder version: he'll find no one decent to sit with on the Express and will end up being Sorted to some dreadful house like Slytherin although his parents have assured him that would be the last house he would be Sorted into.

But why not? Slytherins would have lots of evil uses for a monster like him. At least he would mildly useful to them compared to rest of the world who finds his monstrosity frightening–and useless.

He says nothing to his mother. Remus knows the silver strands tucked neatly behind her ear is because of him– the stress of watching him transform every month, of having to constantly relocate, of having to pretend she never _really _had friends or family she cared that much about.

He knows the work it took to slip him into Hogwarts. He knows how excited his parents are. He can't bear to tell them he will never have fun at Hogwarts or anywhere else because he's a disgusting werewolf.

"I'll try to get in your old house," is all the assurance he can manage with a brief smile he hopes is winning. Mum is smiling although he can already see the tears forming at the corners.

"O Glorious Ravenclaw," she says. Remus is well-tucked into bed. His forehead is well-kissed, his hair well-ruffled. "Good night, Remus."

Remus smiles. "Good night, Mum."

"I love you."

"I love you too," he whispers as she flickers off the light. A last smile from behind the door and it's darkness in his room. The treacherous moon shines from the window, illuminating his model airplanes. Remus stares at the ceiling.

"O Glorious Ravenclaw," he murmurs, rolling over, and to his surprise, drops to sleep for the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning.


	3. iii

**iii**

War is not a romance. War is not glory. War is earthy and a dense pain that sits on your heart like an anvil. Numbness is mandatory. How else can hell-on-earth be faced without anesthesia?

But pain is difficult to calculate. Because Benjy Fenwick died. One of the first for the Order. So many others have died already; men mauled to death by a Death Eater's sadism, mothers asphyxiating, while skulls of children were crushed.

But it's Benjy Fenwick.

The table of skilled wizards and witches suddenly have nothing to say. Remus looks up and catches James' gaze. "Bulgaria."

Maybe breaking the silence is inappropriate, but it makes James smile in sad nostalgia. James rubs his eyes and pretends he's not tearing up. "Best in poker."

"The absolute best."

"I nearly had to give him my trousers, I lost all of my money."

"I still owe him–" and his voice broke. When he swallows, he imagines blocks of concrete pushing themselves down his esophagus.

Remus remembers Benjy well. Jokes for every occasion. Even when Mad-Eye was testy, even when Death Eaters disappeared without a trace into the night, even when their assignment was crouching in a mud hole during a rainstorm in Bulgaria.

But he is dead.

There is nothing but a piece of arm or torso. Not even a face to refresh his memory.

The Order members are quiet as if afraid Death Eaters will hear their sobs and find their tears. No weakness, ever. Dumbledore sits silently while Mad-Eye's blue eyes whizzes by slowly. His normal eye stares at the floor.

Remus _would _cry, but there's nothing left after last night. He is still swollen and scarred from the rendezvous with the full moon. He suddenly feels selfish, whining about his problems when all that's left of a smiling, joking man is a piece of elbow skin. And not even that much.

He wishes he would burst out into tears as his heart sears in white pain, but is afraid to find his cheeks wet. He is relieved and angry that Moody interrupts.

"No time," he says. "Next team leaves in fifteen minutes. Move out."

He clumps away, staggering slightly. Remus watches James exchange looks with a shocked Peter, and he can almost hear the indignation in their thoughts: _No time to mourn for our friend? Then what is there time for? _Mad-Eye isn't heartless, Remus wants to explain. He just understands anesthesia. He understands vulnerability.

It's when Remus tries to swallow the nonexistent tears that he suddenly wants to burst out crying.


	4. iv

**iv**

_Be sensible,_ he tells himself. _Use your logic. Use your brain._

But suddenly, the torrent of colorful emotions swallow his throbbing brain. There's only room for one organ in this town, and the Heart will rule. The Brain is banished. At least for now.

Sitting in his living room couch, Remus clasps his hands and tries to reason the sense of infuriation rippling through his head. _Why are you so angry, Remus Lupin? _

It was his smug little face, with the ferret eyes and sharp beak of a nose. His thick, wrinkled lips slowly telling him why Remus was so deplorable with the expression of sickening sympathy and a sense of benevolence he obviously felt about himself.

"As Ministry regulations dictate, we can't hire werewolves," the man had said. "There's danger present for our current employees and the instability of having an unapproved Ministry... person on staff." He had said _person _with doubt as if Remus wasn't sitting right in front of him, very much human.

Unfortunately, instead of punching the greasy man on the nose, Remus had sat with his briefcase on his lap, an uncomfortable smile frozen on his face. He was still good-humored then, still hopeful. He was trying to recall his debating skills.

As if he could debate out of an issue like this.

"I understand your financial standings might be unstable due to your... condition–" Another awkward look in his eyes. "–but I cannot offer you such a high-standing job. Our health insurance and many other expenses will certainly increase and in this time of recession, would be an incorrect move to take in behalf of the company."

_What's this bastard even saying? Does he not speak English? He sounds like he has dirty knickers stuffed up his arse. _Remus could hear Sirius' voice exploding in his head. He decided that was a sign of a job interview going bad.

Good thing Remus understood Snoblish. He could translate for the Sirius in his head:

"We think you're a monster and we don't want you in our company because we're scared you'll eat us while you saunter down the row of cubicles with a coffee cup in your hand. Because that's obviously what werewolves do."

Before Remus could think of a retort, even one line to defend himself, the interviewer had said, "Thank you for dropping by, Mister Lupin, but we can't take you at this time," and smiled expectantly in a way that clearly said: "Please leave."

Remus had just sat there, staring back at the toady man with the wrinkled full lips with that stupid expectant smile still frozen on his face. Even the Sirius-in-His-Head abandoned him for the painful silence.

He had to leave, of course, since he didn't want to make a scene and prove that werewolves were indeed unstable. For the reputation of future werewolves like him, Remus Lupin rose, dignified, from his chair and left the office.

It wasn't until the elevator ride that he was consumed with fiery rage.

Being only three o'clock, Remus couldn't slam his way into a bar and drink himself delirious. And he didn't have anyone to drink with anyway, James and Lily on some romantic getaway, Sirius on a mission, and Peter at home tending to his sick mum. He was alone.

So instead, he went home. And now, he sits at his chair, staring stupidly at the coffee table. The man's voice is ringing through his head and it hurts like a migraine.

_And the instability of having an unapproved Ministry... _person_ on staff..._

Before he realizes, the coffee table is smashed against the opposite wall, a mess of chipped wood and scratched varnish with a loud bang ringing in his ears. Remus stares in horror and amazement as he finds himself standing up and breathing heavily.

Then it's lost.

The coffee table is made the martyr of his frustrated dreams as it is crushed under his shiny black shoes into splinters and sawdust. His mouth is muttering nonsense: "_You– think– it's– so– hard– to– consider– me– a– person–_" Every yell punctuated by kicks. "_Werewolves– are– never– good– enough–_"

As quick as it started, Remus is done. He is breathing heavily and staring at a destroyed coffee table in exhausted fascination. Green bitterness winds its ivy around his neck and he's tired of being a creature. He has all these human thoughts, dreams, emotion, and it kills him to be a creature.

He punches the coffee table and the wood knocks against his knuckles. "You think I wanted_– _to be– a werewolf–" Remus watches his hand blooming bruises. "Wanted this– to happen–" Hearing the crunch is so satisfying. "Bloody stupid– bastard–"

No use. When something in his hand crunches, Remus pulls back in shock, more at the sound than the pain. He ignores it. It's nothing special. Just twisted, sprained, broken, and bruised. Nothing special at all.

The day's just full of surprises. The moment he drops down onto the couch, Remus finds a lone tear sliding down his cheek, making a watery line in the grime of his face. He touches it, fascinated by how it saturates his fingertips.

Then another drop is sitting on the tip of his nose, a third caught on his lower lashes, and a fourth appears on his purple knuckles.

"I'm crying," Remus says. He surprises himself by laughing. And laughing until his _ha-ha_'s are throat-filling weeping that he can't stop even when he curls into a small ball.

Remus Lupin: 0. The world: Infinity.


	5. v

**v**

Tonks finds him with Teddy, dropping tears on the little baby's face. For some reason, the baby's still sleeping deeply, undisturbed. It is Tonks who is disturbed by the scene. She had assumed, through their long conversations, that Remus had wanted this, a baby, a family, and a settling-down. But here he is, crying over their son.

"Remus?"

He looks up so defensively that she puts her hands out in front of her, a surrender. He tries not to sniffle and ignore the fact tears are coating his eyelashes. Tonks stares at her stronger-than-oak husband faltering under the baby breeze. It is touchingly pathetic.

"Remus, what's the matter?" She can hardly speak above a whisper. "Remus?"

It takes a while to coax out a response. He shakes his head for a while and evades the question. At one time, he tries to pretend he's not crying, but even he realizes the futility. Remus cries bitterly and he won't say why. It's only when Tonks _demands _an answer with a frown that a feeble reply can be heard under the choking tears.

"He never had the choice..."

"Who, Remus? Who are you talking about?"

Remus stares down at little Teddy. His hair changes from a magenta to a pale orange. Tonks pats the wisps of color-changing hair. Tonks again demands a clarification. But Remus only has nervous mutters for himself.

"I should've never started crying like that... Wasn't very manly of me..." He looks at Tonks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for scaring you. I won't do it again. I don't know what came over me, but I won't do it again–"

"Remus." The voice is firm. "What's going on?"

It is the moan of a wounded animal that escapes between Remus' lips. He clutches his head in parody of an anguished poet. "He never had the choice..."

"About what?"

Remus looks up and despite his promises, his eyes are glistening again. "About being the son of a werewolf." He has been suffering. "At least you had the choice to be married to me... Nobody let Teddy decide if he wanted to be my son or not..."

"Remus, what are you talking about?" Tonks' frown is deep. It is concern. She picks up Teddy and holds him to her.

"What are the kids going to say when he goes to Hogwarts?" Remus says. "They'll know his father's a werewolf. _Everyone knows!_" A wild cry. "Kids are cruel, Tonks. You remember, don't you? Impossibly cruel. Callous. And you were allowed to decide to be near me. Ted doesn't get to. What's he going to do?"

Remus personally told Tonks when she married him, she would be marrying his baggage as well. All this emotional baggage from years of snobby sniffs and "Please leave now"'s. She still said yes. And she has never yet cursed her decision.

Tonks stares at the miserable ball that is Remus and wraps her arms around him. She enjoys the bitter irony of being the one to be wrapping arms around and protecting while Remus cowers and weeps. Teddy is in the middle of their embrace, dozing. Tonks kisses Remus.

"Remus," Tonks says. "If Teddy's anything like me– which I think he will be, considering the state of his changing hair color already– then he'll think you're absolutely wonderful."

Remus looks up at his wife. "What if he's like me instead and decides he hates me?"

"Then I'll accidentally-on-purpose trip over an umbrella stand and drop piles of dishes on his head and that bump on his head will make him love you."

"Do you know you're not very good at comforting people? Or rational?"

"Sirius says that a lot. Did he tell you to say that to me?" Remus smiles.

"No. I guess it's a truth all people eventually come to."

"Oi, that wasn't a very nice thing to say to your amazing wife who just comforted you in your time of suffering."

"Oh no." Remus angles his mouth towards Tonks'. "Will you ever forgive me?"

"I'll try to," she smiles.

Between Remus and Tonks is Teddy. The first time they kiss, the baby flails, but falls back asleep. The second time, the tears on Remus' cheeks have dried. The third time, they're both smiling stupidly.

And the fourth time, the fifth time, and the sixth time–never been happier.

* * *

><p>Didn't mean to make him so weepy. But that's what happened.<p> 


End file.
